DESCRIPTION: Ienzo and Rai are twins, almost identical. The only real difference (when they try) is eye colour - Ienzo has deep blue; Rai almost a chocolate brown. Both keep their hair short, however despite his need for perfection, Ienzo's often seems to have a wild quality to it, often sticking out at odd angles, whereas Rai prefers to keep it very neat.

HISTORY: Their father was a Moon Elf, who defected to the Steel Empire. Why is unknown. He settled with an Inquistor, and the two often hunted evil outsiders together (their younger sister, Mariania, would follow in their parents' footsteps years later, after a demon claimed both of their lives). The twins were boarded at the Ajenda Academy, where the latent magic of their mixed heritaged started to manifest itself.

Ienzo and Rai had two very different reactions. Rai chose to embrace this aspect of their blood, using it for what was deemed for the good of the Empire (becoming an Acolyte). Ienzo denied and supressed it - he was a man of science after all, and magic had no place there. However, his repression of this caused it to manifest in other ways - such as being channelled into his work as an Alchemist. His projects often had unexpected results as a consequence - and attracted unwanted attention.

Both began to adventure. Rai was seeking to spread the word of the God-Emperor Ajen; Ienzo to escape the close scrutiny. They share a room in the Tavern (to cut costs), though Rai does not appreciate the finer things that Ienzo has grown accustomed to. Time spent away from the heart of the Empire has led to Rai's weakening faith. He is still loyal to Ajen and his homeland, but he's started to question some of the base tenants. Ienzo has been offered a high position within the Empire, due to being one of the most prestigious citizens of the Empire, but turned it down. He has grown accustomed to the freedom offered by adventuring.

Equipment: His main weapons are a pair of Voidsteel Scimitars. Given by the power of his wraith his main hand scimitar has a small life leeching affect. Not too powerful, but it allows him to regain stamina and heal minor wounds each time it sinks into an enemy. His off hand Scimitar which used to belong to his father contains the ability of return in case if he ever drops it or ever needs to throw it. It only has a small return range of 3 meters. He has a small leather sash across his chest with thin and light weight throwing daggers, ideal for interrupting spell casters and hitting vital points. He wears a black trench coat with another enchantment given to him by his wraith allowing him quickly "blend" into the shadows seeming as if it manipulates darkness itself.

He has a small pack in the small of his back containing a flask of water, roll of bread, and healing salves/bandages.

Skills: Melee combat is his fancy. Using the shadows and his incredible speed with little to no sound at all. Extensive training with dual wielding an assortment of weapons, hand to hand, and throwing daggers. Minor training in archery with a bow/crossbow. (Would rather charge an enemy than carry such bulky things.)

Striving to gain magical abilities promised by his Wraith Kelric has his entire body covered in demonic symbols and written incantations which he hopes to become strong enough to successfully use. Previous attempts have almost caused him to lose his mind to his wraith which now gives it a small grasp over his actions.

Appearance: At 5'11 Kelric has an athletic build giving him enough strength he needs to use what he has, but making him light enough to have the speed necessary for his tactics. With his body covered from head to toe with tattoos of ancient demonic incantations and diagrams his primary tattoos are snakes coiled around around his arms and shoulder. The tail starting at his elbow and the head coming over his shoulder resting on top of his collar bone. He also has the Latin words "Velox Mortis" meaning Swift Death tattooed on his forehead, and a piercing in his labret of a sickle which wraps under his chin.

Wearing black boots to having black short and spiked hair. From head to toe he wears black. The only bit of color he has are a two snakes, on his coat which constrict from wrist to shoulder. One snake being yellow and black, the other being red and black with a large red pentagram on his back. His bronze brown skin making his tattoos a little less obvious and also making them harder to read for anyone with knowledge of the dark arts.

History: Succeeding his father Kedak Valas only by murder in the shadowy assassin's guild in Soul Forge. At the age of 9 his father murdered his mother suspected of having multiple affairs while he was gone. Fueled anger and coaxed by his father's Wraith within his own mind accused his father of becoming old and weak. Putting his father's basic training into use. Killing him with his own scimitar one night while they were eating. Unsuspecting Kedak wasn't aware of his Wraith's treacherous ways until it was consuming his life force and deeming Kelric his new master. Taking his father's Scimitar and Trench Coat he set off to make a new name for the family Valas.

Impressed by his gritty determination the guild begins the child's extensive training at the age of 10. He quickly became talk of the Shadow Assassin's guild collecting difficult marks at a young age while his older brother becoming a Bone Lord began to put some fame back into the Valas name leaving him with no regrets. Only appreciation for his father's guile.

Equipment: Her Vampiric Umbral Steel Dreadblade encased in a sheath bound with human skin slung across her back. Two curved Serrated daggers concealed in her belt. The Ritual Of the Soul Drinker tome ever-ready stashed in special pouch in her cloak.She wears large Black Cloak over her Etherium Gothic Plate emblazoned with a blood red dragon.Wears Black Shadowscale Armored Greaves and boots

Apperance: Seras stands about 5'11. Her figure is athletic and buxom.(A fact that has lead many a being to their death). Her long red hair flows down to the middle of her back. Her green eyes seems glow eerily;there is large scar that bisects her left eye that she received from a Cavalier.

Skills:She has almost superhuman strength and speed. Extremely potent in Necromancy and other Dark Arts. Very Skilled in unarmed and with her Dreadblade. Seras is a master strategist and expert in many forms of torture. .Has a habit of quartering opponents with her blade.

Background: Not much is known about Seras's personal life. Her beauty has often times caught many beings off-guard and she fequently uses it to her advantange. She always seen swooping into battle aback her Immense Anicent Shadowdrake, Daishii. She is one of the Commanders of Xithan Terrorguild. Few know that she is actually a Elder Vampire and it is rumored that she is one of the original Death Knights. Frequently Seras visits the Dragon Tavern siting the far back shadows observing the other patrons....

Name: DaerolithFrom: Ajendra KeepGender: MaleClass: I wasn't quite sure about this one..I guess the closest thing is an acolyte. I was reading their description but they seem like either a priest or a paladin. I can't tell for sure which one.Class: HOLY MAN!Age: 25

Equipment: A dagger in his right boot, a bible-like spell casting book within the folds of his robes and a pair of Mithrodin sword at his side. Said to be very old Daerolith still is unable to fully harness their divine abilities.

Appearance: A very hardy fellow. Daerolith always has a smile across his face. With shoulder length black hair it blends in well with his robes and hat. A large wide-brimmed hat sits atop his head etched with gold trimmings and has an extraordinarily large red feather plume. His robes, boots, and gloves matching his hat are also black with gold trimmings. A large red Celtic cross sew onto the back of his robes, and the back of his gloves. Standing at 5'5 he's a good looking young man with a strong build. His eyes colored that of a sapphire. Rich and deep blue. His noticeable jaw line disappearing from the stubbing of facial hair. Though never too worried about his appearance he simply does not like the feel of a beard. Makes him feel old.

Skills: Extensive training with his Mithrodin sword makes him pray at night hoping he never has to use it on another living soul. Compliments of the Steel Empire. Compassion and friendliness seems to only go so far with some people. Acquainted with many spells from his lord and his teachers the largest majority of them are defensive based. Heals, barriers, and protective shields are his specialty. Only few are the spells he uses for harm out of necessity not out of lust.

History: Living in the Steel Empire for as long as he could remember Daerolith was an orphan. There wasn't much information of how he arrived at the orphanage other than a simple reply of "God sent him to us!" From a very young age Daerolith always thought he was destined to become a great scholar and writer. To travel through the lands of the Steel Empire writing tales of their greatness and honor devoted to remove the evil which was plaguing the world.

At the age of 10 he slipped away from his Chaperon while being escorted from school to his home. Rumors of a battle near the entrance of Ajendra Keep stole his attention. The talk of Acolytes holding off the force by themselves were sent by the Emperor personally to assure the safety Ajendra Keep. One of the few places where Acolytes are raised to serve and protect the lord himself with their vigilance. Once he made it to the gate the kid couldn't believe his eyes as a small army of undead was being held back by 3 simple men. No, not simple, DIVINE men. Acolytes. Their prayers granted them gifts from the lord bringing about barriers boxing the undead in place just before the clouds split to launch golden spears from heaven down onto their enemies. Their devotion was utterly amazing. Even when a wild spear came over the barrier impaling one of the righteous men the other two didn't flinch. They moved closer to the barrier placing their hands upon it while they silently pray. Strengthening the divine wall before large spikes begin to shoot out impaling the horrors on the other side.

The wounded man rips the spear out of leg as he lays on the ground. His mouth still quietly praying to the heavens above asking for the strength to continue. The Acolytes lower faces visible, but their eyes shielded by the hoods on their robes. A dull glow emits from his hand just before he places it over his injured leg. Daerolith stuck in a trance can't help but begin to walk over to the injured man as he's giving the help of god himself. Mending his own injuries with divine strength. A gurgle sound catches both Daerolith's and the Acolyte's attention as they turn to see a soldier of hell charging the downed man. Acting as quick as he could the robed man withdraws a flail from his robes in an attempt to smite the creature of the dark. Too slow was the man. By the time he pulled the flail out the once living soldier drove his sword through the mans chest with enough force to send the tip digging into the ground. The blade sent his body back slamming his head against the ground and whip lashing it back up removing his hood and revealing his pained face. The man's eyes catch sight of the young boy and his look of horror as he watched the creature struggle to remove the blade from his torso. Sliding the flail towards the child the man's eyes begin to slowly close as he continues to mouth his prayers. His hand clutching just enough to signify the flail's importance.

Daerolith stunned by the sight hardly even noticed the flail just a few steps from him. The undead soldier catching sight of the child renewed some vigor in the creature as it screams frantically trying to rip the blade free from the dying man. Acting purely off instinct the child moves to the flail having to pick it up with both hands. A pulse of warmth and power pulses through his body as the spiked balls of the flail glow a dim yellow. Looking back to the dying man Daerolith understood what must be done seeing as how the man is sacrificing himself to save the child by using the last of his strength to imbue the weapon. Gripping the handle tightly with both hands Daerolith charged the creature just as it frees its blade sending a side swipe towards the child's direction. Ducking under the high blade Daerolith swings the flail with all of his might connecting with the armored torso of the creature. The enchant on the flail being the only reason he could have done any damage with as little strength he possessed, the flail barely having much of an impact. The consecrated flail takes affect making it seem as if there was a small bomb implanted in its body. The opposite side of the skeleton explodes from the hallowed weapon killing the creature almost instantly as its upper body falls apart.

One of the other two remaining Acolytes finally gets to the scene with a look of shock across his face. Not because the child killed the creature, or the fact that one of their own had fallen, but the thought of such a young man was capable of handling such a strong attack. Taking the flail from the child the man went down to one knee placing his hand upon the lad's shoulder. A large smile spread across his face.

At this moment Daerolith knew that his thoughts of being a scholar were only meant to bring him to this city. That this was his true calling, not some serendipity, but he was to become an Acolyte.

Over the years through all of his school Daerolith was so emotionally repressed by religion he didn't have much of a childhood. He wasn't allowed to go out much unless it was simply to get supplies. When he finally became a true Acolyte he received a pair of Mithrodin swords. Magnificent blades which were laying neatly on his bed along with a note. "Sorry I haven't been there for you son and I know you probably have a lot of question. I wish I could give these to you personally, but I know these blades will treat you as well as they have treated me over the years. Love your father."

The fact that his father was still alive brought Daerolith from his religious snap into a place he was very unfamiliar with. Once he left Ajendra Keep he felt like a new man. Allowed to do anything he wanted. His personality no longer held down by uptight naysayers was an odd twist once Daerolith headed into larger and crowded cities seeing a new spin on exactly what the world and people were like. Changing him a little as well..

Name: Elvenoff Shanara, The Nim'ohtar Gender: MaleRace: Half-ElvenClass: Sky GuardAge: 21Equipment: Upon his back, in its uniquely made scabbard, lies his trusted longsword Brimquie, A family heirloom that was handed down from centuries old. It is said to have undiscovered powers that are locked away till the right heir beholds it. Two silver crafted Elven daggers lay dormant upon his side. On his mount, lies the Bow of Elvendoria, engraved with identical markings as Brimquie, a weapon that to this day still eludes the skills of this half-elf. The black and gold elven platemail rests effortlessly upon his shoulders, the many years of donning this armor has trained his body well. A solid black cloak flows evenly over his shoulder and cascades down to his knees, concealing the armor from all sides except the front.
Skills: His skills of combat came from his father, Many early hours of swinging the blade and parring blows, learning when to strike when the opportunity presents itself, knowing when to advance and when to hold ones form, all this was his steps in becoming a defender of good. His mother taught him how to pray to Corellon Larethian and use his ability to heal the ones that are in need.
Appearance: A soft face looks upon you with ocean blue eyes that sparkle as if they were filled with joy. His ears take on the elven trait as there is a slight point at its tip. His long blond hair cascades down over his shoulders in a flowing fashion. His frame is one that takes on the human trait of being rather tall, somewhere around twelve hands high and broaden with an athletic build.
Personality: His gentle hand is always offered to those that he meets. He is loyal to the cause and is willing to give his life for a land of harmony. He serves the needy, fights against the tyranny of evil and brings justice to the unjust. His word is his bond, once given he will not break it. His nobleness flows outward as his aura is nothing but pure good.
History: Dawn breaks of the city of Endoris, a city deep within the Mountain Kingdom. A city where Elvenoff's father rules with a kind hand and a strong heart. Its people mainly consisting of Elves and Humans work side by side in harmony. His father Elkon, A Lord Knight of the Mountain Kingdom serves his King with loyalty and commitment, traits that he wanted Elvenoff to pick up and follow, but soon he realized that Elvenoff did not want to pay lineage to a mortal, but wanted to serve a higher being, or purpose. With this he allowed Elvenoff to follow the path of his destiny. He did however gave Elvenoff the skills needed to defend the rights of others, to serve the greater good of humanity.

His mother, the human side of his traits, taught him the ways of healing those that were in pain physically and mentally. She was the savor of souls and guardian of the spiritual path to the enlightenment. She taught Elvenoff how to read ones aura and understand the paths that many souls take over the course of their lives. She taught him how to use the land to heal those that needed help and showed him how to lead those that wanted to be lead for the greater good.

Elvenoff used his teachings for years in the city of Endoris, helping those in need and serving the greater good whenever the opportunity arose. At the blisterous age of twenty-one, he decided that his time in the city was no longer needed and that the would before him was now his place. So he bid farewell to his parents as he set off to bring the world to a much needed harmony.

Class: Fallen Agent, ShadowBlade is the term he uses to describe his current position.

Faction: Owes his alligence to no-one, unless the money is high enough to interest him.

Equipment: Twin swords, Light and Fury, both blades are forged from silverel and adamantium, strong yet weightless as a feather, both blades have enchantments and as such are Arn's main weapons, Light has the ability of fast strike which means that Arn can usually attack his intended target first, Fury has the ability to detect magic, either spells cast against Arn or magically hidden traps or people.He wears an amulet of absorbtion that can store spells that have been cast at him and with but a thought use said spell against the caster.
The amulet is only able to absorb nature based spells such as lightning or fire, undead such as liches or even dark minstrels are able to bypass this as their magic is unnatural, pyschic's can invade his mind or hurt his body because this to is unnatural and priest's or clerics or paladins can call upon divine beings to inflict damage to Arn and the amulet is unable to absorb them, along with direct blessings from the deities themselves.
Black and grey leather armour which has been enhanced with runic stitches that give it the toughness of a steel bound cuirass and its still light enough for his more acrobatic moves, Shadowmantle is the black cloak he wears, it has the ability to render him insubstantial as a shadow and as invisible as a fine mist, the cloak also can become animated for a while like a pair of wings to help him in descending from heights or to improve his jump attacks.

Description: Arn stands at just under 6 feet tall, he is dark haired and has a tanned complexion, his eyes are ice-blue in colour and sometimes take on a hint of red as he nears a bloodlust fury, he is a solitary man for reasons undisclosed at this time, yet he will willingly work with others if the price is right or if the interest is there, he is intelligent and often thinks ahead of his opponents but more often than not he is just ruthless and cruel to them, he sometimes has a sadistic side which was a result of his training, and will look on in pleasure at another's pain. He will follow orders without question if he thinks the one giving them deserves to be followed.

History: Little is known about the dark assassin that wandered into the Tavern without any knowledge of where he was from or where he had been heading, however he regained some of his memory and is now looking to strike back at the people he believes deserve his wrath, he carries a small locket inside his armour that once held two pictures, one is of a lovely young dark haired child and the other is burned beyond recognition, he is still unsure who they are and why he still carries the locket, but he seems to find it comforting and can often be seen absentmindedly fiddling with it and the chain.

Skills: Arn is a master Swordsman, he has trained for as long as he remembers and these memories seem to activate in battle to help him reach new and uncharted territory with his blades, he is also well trained in unarmed combat and acrobatic type feats, he knows all of the shadow adept skills of the blade and can use them freely without injury, his amulet of absorbtion however, cannot be removed as it contains his soul, this is to power his amulet and also gives Shadowmantle its abilities.

Equipment:No weapons, but he does carry a hand sized spell book which is leather bound to his hip underneath the folds of his robes.

Skills:A storm lord of great potential. Too eager to get out into the world he cut his apprenticeship(also because he constantly disrespected for his style) short feeling he already knew enough. A very brilliant young man Taieyos specializes in melee combat, odd I know, but he uses elemental manipulation to his advantage.

Appearance: Around 5'8 this handsome fellow has mixed eye colors of a crimson red and a sapphire blue blending in well with the rest of his body. His short and spikey hair (though rarely seen because his hood is usually up) itself seems alive as the colors of red and orange dance around. His hair ever changing as the two colors blend and mix with one another making it seem as if fire lived inside of the follicles themselves. A neatly trimmed goatee which doesn't extend past his chin is in the shape of a flame itself, dancing with color just like his hair. Wearing a self designed robe its red and orange hues cover the bottom half as if fires are rising from his feet. The top half is various shades of blue with snow flakes falling on top of the flames as if keeping them controlled. (Not animated..just a picture.)

Personality: A very friendly person he's ready to become any person's friend. Even with a rough past he's always willing to give a helping hand though he's most commonly referred to has "Hot Head" and "Witches Cauldron" due to his simple appearance. Ever hearty he doesn't skip a beat in his attempt at humor. Almost seeming confused his accent is a blend of dwarvish and a common human's tongue. Don't let him fool you though he has his own guile when it comes to combat, though jovial he's not afraid to do what he must.

History:His parents running their own Caravan trade was ambushed by a group of Mountain Trolls which took their lives. 4 years old at the time and part of a small handful that made it away he was lost in the mountains before a group of dwarves found him during a mining expedition taking him in and looking after him. Bright from a young age his newly found and short father, Izamos, taught him everything he could in regards to hunting, fighting, and the dwarven tongue.

When Taieyos became 12 his foster father noticed his sharp mind and his affection for magic. Though unknown to the dwarf his biological parents were trained Storm Lords who married young and winded down opening their own Merchant Caravan with the gold from their shared adventures leading to their unfortunate death. Magic was in his blood, and a Storm Lord was second nature to him. With the help of an old college which dabbled in the elemental arts himself, his foster father worked day and night producing armor, weapons, engineering supplies, and tools to provide enough money for a boy which he feels is his own to attend the school.

Constantly made fun of and mocked by the other noble apprentices Taieyos was picked on and the laughing stock of Hearthfire Hold Academy. His tongue confused with how to talk often left him stammering almost as if he couldn't talk at all. Being from a normal hard working dwarven family this primary noble school looked sourly on the outlandish young man. An incredibly quick learner he could grasp his head around any spell, but was usually disrespected for turning it into his own spells. A few teachers found him to be an absolutely amazing student while other simply thought him to be ruining tradition with his methods.

Uncomfortable to customary spell casting, as he was raised with dwarves, he's into more of a tactical and direct approach manipulating the elements into his personal weapon rack adding his own touch to being a Storm Lord. One frowned upon by many, and admired by few.

APPEARANCE/DESCRIPTION: Pythagoras has light skin and shoulder length red hair that curls slightly. He is lean and wiry, and stands at a little under 6'3". He usually only wears thin black pants made from the hide of some strange Daggerspine creature, unless it is extremely cold out, in which case he also wears a furry animal skin overcoat.
He is allied to no specific realm, but goes out on independent adventures and sometimes acts as a mercenary, bounty hunter, or something else of the like for adventurers in the tavern looking for such people. Pythagoras has always loved the thrill of a dangerous quest mroe than anything. He is most at home in the wilderness, particularly that of the Daggerspine Mountains. Pythagoras is generally quiet, only speaking when something needs to be said. However, this can change drastically when he spots an attractive female alone at the bar or after one too many cups of Mead.

EQUIPMENT: Pythagoras doesn't equip any special armor before going into battle, which means any weapon that hits him will very likely do damage. He fights with both a medium sized bow that helps him in open spaces and two short, curved swords that help if he is battling in an enclosed area.
If he is out adventuring and not on a quest, he carries a medium sized leather pouch that he carries his loot in.

SKILLS: due to his lack of armor and a long ranged bow, Pythagoras doesn't make much of a warrior when it comes to large battles. Instead, he sticks to minor skirmishes where he can take on one or two enemies at a time. However, his skill with a bow at short to medium range is a force to be reckined with.
He is a skilled and formiddable hunter and tracker despite his young age, having been trained to hunt almost since his birth.

HISTORY (thus far): Pythagoras was born and raised in a barbarian camp in the Daggerspine mountains. He never knew his father, who apparently died in a battle two weeks before his birth. He spent most of his time hunting, first being taught, and then going out into the woods alone.

His life changed at age 15, when he snuck along with the whole group of his clan's warriors as they attacked the camp of their mian enemy, the Black Hand clan. Caught up in the midst of the fighting, Pythagoras was captured by the enemy warriors with a knock out blow to his skull. When he awoke several hours later, he found that his clan had lost the battle, and their warriors were mostly dead, with a slight few scattered in the forest.

It was at this camp that he met a mysterious, evil outworlder known as Luas Nosduh. Their metting was only a few minutes long though, as he escaped the enemy camp when a group of Sky Guards attacked and he was able to slip away in the confusion. Alone in the forest, he decided to head for the one safe place he knew to exist: Dragon Tavern.

Within a few days and a rough escape from a Mosswillow wolf, he arrived at the bustling place.

He spent his life first as an adventurer, questing throughout the lands near the Tavern. He found a smaller (though still sizebale) bow and replaced his hunting knife with two curved baldes that were designed to look elvish, even though they were definetely not. Even so, they were good blades, and Pythagroras developed a special bond with them as time dragged on.
Eventually, at age 18, he convinced an elderly war master by the name of Nagroc to bring him under his wing and train him. For the next 3 years he trained day and night, and eventually he was accepted as an apprentice War Master by the Groldar Garrison

However, he didn't like the restrictions of the War Masters, and he parted ways with them soon after his acceptance.This caused outrage among a good amount of them, and he now has several fanatical war masters in the Mountain Kingdoms that want him dead for betrayal, though most of them are within the Groldar Garrison or the War Masters as a whole.

He now adventures throughout the land, either independently or as a mercenary or bounty hunter.
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PM me if you find anything wrong or have suggestions for this char.

__________________
^annoying rock fan^

"When The Power Of Love,
Overcomes The Love Of Power,
The World Will Know Peace"
Jimi Hendrix.

Equipment: He is wearing a suit of dark jesters clothing, the black and white motley silk with tattered edges picked out fading silver; his shoes are black silk with a pointed toe curled around to support a single bell that jingles with each step that he takes. He is carrying a warped horn pipe, the wood blotched and warped with age and the influence of damp.

Appearance: He is a slender undead human, with a slight cadaverous frame which is supported by thin legs and even more frail looking arms. He seems to be extraordinarily tall, towering above most people with his haunted expression. His black hair is short, tied back to rest on the nape of his neck with a single black ribbon that curls around the gathered hair to bind it back tightly. His eyes are a piercing oceanic blue, overshadowed by his emaciated facial features, the elegant nose and thin lips. The most noticeable feature of this creature is his slender fingers, never motionless, pale digits that weave and curl before him. Perched on his head is a battered top hat, seemingly black velvet but scuffed with wear and time.